opposites attract · Y/n story by @starkey

Kildare in late summer was the kind of hot that made the air feel sticky and slow, like even the cicadas couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort. Sarah’s new place — John B’s place, technically, though Sarah had already started calling it ours — sat at the end of a gravel drive, the screen door hanging open like an invitation.

Sarah Cameron

emerging from behind a stack of boxes, hair frizzed, cheeks flushed Oh thank god. You’re here. I’m drowning.

John B Routledge

from somewhere on the floor, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling She’s being dramatic. We’ve got this totally under control.

Sarah Cameron

John B, you’ve been lying there for twenty minutes.

John B Routledge

I’m supervising.

And then there was Rafe. He wasn’t helping. Obviously. He was leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, looking like he’d been personally victimized by the concept of manual labor. His gaze flicked to you the second you walked in, and something in his expression shifted — not softer, exactly. Just there. Focused.

Rafe Cameron

Took you long enough.

Sarah shot him a look that could’ve peeled paint.

Sarah Cameron

You’ve been standing there watching me carry boxes, Rafe. You haven’t lifted a finger.

Rafe Cameron

doesn’t look away from you Not my move.